thirty

twenty-nine

sleep! hibernation! no more exams! (for a while, anyway).

twenty-eight

all tangled up.

don't those words ^ remind you of Skye Sweetnam's Tangled Up in Me?
overexposed (forgot flash was on). ah well.

twenty-seven

iPod touch. 32 gigs of pure awesome. awwww, yeah!

twenty-five

exam period is brutal. more last-minute cramming and less actual studying. procrastination sucks.

twenty-four

twenty-three

studying for physics exam,
grabbed a new sheet of lined paper
and found:

this imperfection,
this little scar,
this little... burn?

or simply the remnants of a broken heart?

I actually hadn't noticed that it is kind of heart-shaped until after uploading the picture. And of course, the colour-effects aren't quite as drastic in the actual object. That, and pretty sure it's not an actual burn either. Ah well, the incoherencies of exam period.

twenty-two

twenty

vintage...
reminiscent...

nostalgic.

nineteen

caffeine - running on empty - need to keep going - bzzzzz...

eighteen

fooling around at lunch,
caught this one-handed -
was quite impressed:

a miniature orange!

seventeen

late-night quote-hunting
in Edmond Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac
for a World Lit Paper.

sixteen

power
on
up

power.

fifteen

recharge!

fourteen

thirteen

the 21st century: even t-shirts come with disclaimers.

twelve

eleven

a plethora...
technicolour!

ten

it's been
unseasonably warm,
undeniably warm,
unnaturally warm,

deceptively warm

this winter.

global warming?
perchance, perhaps... probably.

nine

cube-penguin cell phone holder. again with the cell cam. phew-wee, project 365 is definitely turning out to be easier said than done! nevertheless, we shall persevere! :) thanks a bunch for the great feedback so far everyone, it's much appreciated!

eight

bias, perspective, point of view
a lens,
a filter,
a sieve through which we view the world.

cell phone camera, 1.3MP Samsung

seven

we all make mistakes.

sometimes,
we need a little help,
a little patience,
a little understanding.

sometimes,
we need an eraser,
some white-out,
some invisible tape.

after all,
we're only human.

six

a glass wall
see-through
seemingly fragile

but immobile - unpenetratable.


provocative woman - Elizabeth Arden

five

Henry –

Some days I wish you were a dragonfly. I wish you were a dragonfly because I want to hurt you, I want to make you feel pain, I want to utterly decimate you. I would grow my fingernails long and clutch your wings between them, digging the edges of the nails into the thin, gossamer material. Fragile. I would then slowly – slowly, to savour the satisfaction – slowly pull my hands apart like they were same poled magnets repelling each other. I would tear you from limb to limb, and prolong the excruciating agony for as long as I can. Then I would crunch your tail between my thumb and middle finger – you know why the middle finger – so that you can’t escape, and then – bam! Squish you flat with my other palm.

You don’t deserve to be called my “father” anymore – you’ve never been him, and iPhones will fall from the sky for free before you ever are him. But you know what’s the most pathetic part of all this? I wish you were him. I wish you could be him, even more than I wish for a free iPhone to just fall into my lap. And then disgust and abhorrence fills me to think that I’d even contemplated letting you back into my life.

Do you even realize how messed up my life is because of you? Sometimes I want to pretend that you don’t know, and that somewhere in that bleak, bleak heart of yours, you have a soft spot for me. The rational part of my mind knows that’s nothing but a lie though. Clearly, you don’t give a shit.

Otherwise, you wouldn’t have called Mom and me last night. The first time we’ve heard form you in about half a year now. And what was your not-so-surprising reason for calling? You got in a bar fight, you’re on the run, and you needed cash. And even though neither of us said it out loud, both Mom and I knew that you were drunk or high, or maybe even both. But by now, you probably don’t even remember doing that. And you’ll never read this letter, because you don’t deserve to know the full impact of your life on mine.

Last weekend, Mom took me to the mall and I saw some hot guys from school. And you know what I immediately did, almost subconsciously? I ran and tried to hide inconspicuously in the closest spot possible. Which happened to be a rack of old granny cardigans and gingham dresses on clearance. You know what else? I’m seventeen years old, about to graduate high school, and I’ve still never been kissed. You know why I’m such a late bloomer? Because I grew up without gender balance. Basically, I don’t know how to talk to guys. Every time I try, all I can do is gurgle incoherently.

You don’t deserve to have me care anymore.

Screw you, Henry.

Screw you, stranger.

Definitely not my father.


Contest entry for teen diary entry/letter over at agent Nathan Bransford's blog. Work of fiction.

four

it's 2010
back to school
back to horrendous hordes of homework
back to tragically heavy textbooks
back to messily taking notes
better start preparing for those final exams, because
it's January 2010.

three

tick tock

goes the clock

two

today was just one of those days.
you know the kind, where nothing seems to be going your way
and everything pisses you off
beyond reason.

the sky was salmon today, one single strip, one ragged ribbon of pink grazing the silhouettes of the dark treetops, standing tall under the pressure of the immense sky
hamburger-bunned on each side by extravagent blue

it was one of those days today,
you know the kind, where you seem to skim through out, without really seeing it.
i had to rub my toes through thin cotton socks in the car,
it was that cold; a painful kind of cold that grasped the bone in a claw-grip,
and hurt from the inside out.

i can't fall asleep very easily these days.
thoughts keep clambering for attention, refusing to be sequestered
dripping incessantly and insistently like a leaky faucet.

today was just one of those days.

one

so much pressure

feels so significant

like we're on the brink of possibility

like we could go anywhere from here

like nothing matters, but everything counts, all at once

like even time is waiting for us

so just live in the moment.